


He Won’t Dance (Don’t Ask Him)

by chellerrific



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: (you don’t want to know exactly where it’s been), Gen, Rating exclusively for Zeus’ mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day, another sprog at the door wanting something. At least this one doesn’t ask in rhyming couplets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Won’t Dance (Don’t Ask Him)

**Author's Note:**

> A little something as part of an attempt to do less no writing. Beta by Phil, who may or may not simply be a figment of my imagination. (Perhaps a fly I once swallowed?)

“Just come in and sit down. I fucking hate skulking.”

Persephone stuck her head around the corner. Zeus, sitting at his desk, didn’t even look up at her.

“Ah, no, it’s not that,” she said, straining. “It’s—my chiton—”

With palpable irritation, Zeus came to see what exactly the problem was. He took one look and his annoyance turned to laughter. Persephone’s clothes had gotten snagged on the delicate, individually-chiseled fingers of one of the many marble statues of Zeus himself that dotted the palace. “Sophocles would have a field day with this.”

“Hang on, I think I almost—” With a final tug and a loud rip, Persephone didn’t quite free herself from the statue, which came crashing down, the offending fingers and the hand that held them shattering into a dozen pieces.

Five whole heartbeats passed and Persephone did not breathe.

“Well,” Zeus said at last, his expression unreadable. “That’s an auspicious beginning to this conversation.”

And on top of that, Persephone had torn her chiton, but she was just barely prudent enough not to mention it. At the moment.

“Whatever. I looked like a constipated mule in that one anyway.” He made a face that was both exactly like a constipated mule and exactly like the face the statue had been making.

Persephone laughed. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it.”

“Why not?” Zeus said, heading back inside.

Persephone realized she couldn’t think of a good answer to that question. It wasn’t as if Zeus was sensitive—or short on statues. Belatedly, she followed him.

“So. What are you bothering me for today? More rain? Less rain? Money? More money?” He resumed his seat behind his desk.

“Daddy-daughter bonding time?” she suggested.

Zeus let out a noise that was a little like a cross between a sigh, a groan, and a constipated mule. “How about I just give you money?”

“Ok—wait, no. That’s not what I’m here for. Though I will—”

“Nope. The point is to not have to listen to you talk. It’s one or the other.”

Persephone swore under her breath. She’d already mentally picked out the outfit she wanted to buy to replace this one. She’d have to come back and ask him again later. But first things first. Silently, she chided herself to focus.

“Right, so,” she said, raising her chin and straightening out of her back. She was a queen, and if she wanted people to treat her like one, she needed to start carrying herself like one. “I came to discuss the terms of my, uh. Thing.” She stole a peek at the notes written on her hand, but her palms were far too sweaty and the integrity of the ink had been compromised. Hadn’t quite thought that one through, had she.

Zeus watched her expectantly. Finally he said, “I’m kind of pissed. Are you really supposed to be my kid? This is so amateur hour. At least write it on your _arm_ , dingus.”

“I thought that would be too noticeable.”

“Oh, and inky black handprints on the sides of your chiton aren’t?”

Persephone looked. He was right. She swore again.

“The hell are you so damn nervous for, anyway?” Zeus said, at last setting aside his scrolls and pen and focusing all his attention on her. “Normally you swan in, make yourself comfortable on my desk, and start going through the contents for candy like you own the place.”

“That’s your fault for not leaving it out in the open anymore.”

“Because some little shits eat it all, leaving none for me even though it’s my damn candy.”

Persephone pursed her lips and shrugged. She had no real defense here, beyond that it was a bit absurd of him to expect her to ignore candy.

“So back to the point before I get bored,” Zeus prompted impatiently, drumming his fingers on the desk.

She cleared her throat. “Right. I wanted to talk to you about the terms of my, um. Agreement thing. Arrangement. You know, the thing I have with Mom and Hades.”

Zeus groaned. “You too now? Those two goons are in here every other month whining about how it’s not _fair_ and you should get to be with _them_ and blah blah blah whine whine whine fucking hell.”

Persephone blinked. She hadn’t realized Hades and Demeter were still bothering Zeus about things, but honestly she was not surprised. “Oh. No, it’s not like that. It’s more like, um. Could you, like, refresh my memory on the exact terms?”

Zeus didn’t answer right away, only narrowed his eyes and stared at her. She gulped and stared back. “You do know I hate it when people dance around a subject, right?” he said.

Persephone bit down on her tongue in time to keep a derisive laugh from escaping. He and Hera had been dancing around each other for so long their feet must have been covered in blisters. She didn’t want to know a thing about their weird mating rituals, though. “Um, well,” she said instead.

“Let me take a stab at it.” Zeus stood up and strolled around his desk to her. “You want to know if there’s some key to magically reconciling your mother, who makes adamant look yielding, and your husband, who still holds every single wedgie I ever gave him against me?”

Persephone thought about it. “Yes.”

Zeus crossed one arm over his chest, cocked his head, propped it up on the fist of his other arm, and continued to stare at her.

“Okay, fine. When you put it that way, it does sound a tiny bit difficult,” she said at last.

“I would sit in a room with Hades before Demeter would,” Zeus said. “And in case you missed it, we’re not each other’s favorite person either.”

It was true. Mentions of Zeus could very easily send Hades into a tirade in which he detailed every single trespass, genuine or perceived, his brother had ever committed against him over their long lives. It was a real boner shrinker, to be perfectly honest.

Zeus nodded, correctly guessing where her mind had gone. “And he hates me less than he hates her.”

Persephone sighed, her features turning into a pout. “But—”

“Listen, sprog, I don’t really know what you expect here. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you don’t either. You know what those two are like and you’re smart enough to figure out the rest.”

“Am I?”

“You better be if you want me to keep acknowledging you as my offspring. The idiot quota is pretty much tapped out elsewhere. What’s really making you miserable here is your refusal to accept reality. You know me just like you know those two. I’m not going to hold your hand and tell you what you think you want to hear. You came to me, which means you want the hard truth. I’m the one who cuts through the bullshit and lays the truth bare.”

Persephone nodded knowingly. “Right. About everything except yourself. I mean—”

He looked at her.

“It’s… something Mom always says…” she admitted sheepishly.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. _Anyway_ , somewhere inside, you already know that there’s really nothing you or I or anyone can do that won’t result in someone ending up dead. And don’t go there, because I fucking hate interviewing replacements. It’s an emotionally fraught situation, and neither of those lunkheads is ever going to get any more reasonable. Trust me, I’ve known them since the day they were regurgitated. Two less mutable twits you are never likely to meet.”

“I’m starting to get a little bit offended,” Persephone said.

Zeus waved a hand. “Hard truth. Accept it or scram.”

Persephone rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, where was I? Oh right, immutable twits. So anyway, that’s about the long and short of it. They both love you and hate each other. They both think you want to be with them. And of course, they’re both not wrong, or else we could cut the loser out completely and move on with our lives to things that actually are relevant and matter. Yet here we are.”

“So you’re saying you won’t do anything.” Her pout was back and deeper than ever.

He flicked her on the forehead. “Pay attention and don’t put words in my mouth. I’m saying there’s nothing to _be_ done. Don’t you think I’ve thought this through long and hard?”

“No.”

“And you’d be right. But that’s because there’s no point. You would never have gotten married to Corpse Breath if he hadn’t run off with you when Mommy Dearest wasn’t looking. That’s really the only way that could have happened, ’cause Deo wasn’t budging on not letting literally anything with a dick near you. I’m not kidding. She once destroyed a pestle she thought was too phallic. And the point here is you’re, like, ‘happy’ with your marriage or whatever, right?”

“Without the quotation marks, but yes,” Persephone said.

“Okay, so we can’t take that part back. And it’s not like you want to cut your mother out of your life either, right?”

Persephone shook her head.

“Then it seems to me you have to accept that if you want good and continuing relationships with _both_ of them, you have to keep those spheres of your life separate.”

“Yes, but…”

“Again with the buts.” He snapped his fingers. “Can you try to keep the thread for five minutes here? Yes, but you don’t want to. Yes, but it sucks. Yes, but you just want to take their heads and bang them together until they end up so concussed they forget how much they hate each other. Hey, actually—”

“No,” Persephone said, with more conviction than she felt.

Zeus was far too bored with this topic to call her on it. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t believe that, but I honestly am. If nothing else, I have to keep fucking hearing about this as a result. But I handed down this compromise because it was honestly the best possible solution for _you_.”

Persephone blinked. “For me?”

“Well, duh. It’s not what Deo wanted and it’s not what Goober wanted and I don’t fucking care what happens beyond ending that famine bullshit, so who’s left? Looks like it’s you, princess.”

“Oh.” And then belatedly, “Queen.”

Zeus gave her a look. “So has it gotten through yet or do I need to have Ares come in and explain it? He’ll draw you pictures.”

Persephone sighed. “No. I get it. Even though it sucks.”

“Yes, yes,” said Zeus, sitting back down at his desk. “Life is suffering, what doesn’t kill you makes you blah blah blah, it was nice seeing you, goodbye.”

In spite of that, Persephone kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Dad. I really hate it but I guess you’re right, pretty much anything would be worse.”

“Yeah, I’m a real mensch,” he said. “Anything else or can I go back to forgetting you’re my kid?”

“You’d rather own up to Ares than me? Now I’m _definitely_ offended.”

Zeus sighed. “Please. He’s the first one I tried to ditch. Did you know he can find his way back here from anywhere? Literally anywhere. He’s like a fucking dog, swear to me. Plus then his mother got all pissy at me. Like she’s one to talk, right?”

“Apollo will be thrilled to know he wasn’t first,” Persephone said.

Zeus jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t you fucking dare tell him or I really will disown you.”

She held up her hands. “All right, all right. I don’t want to be cut off from your treasury.”

Zeus nodded. “That’s my girl. Oh, all though you won’t be getting anything for awhile anyway. I do need to replace that statue.”

Persephone swore.


End file.
